When Revan returns, I'll be there
by Tulak Hord
Summary: Kreia is dead, the Exile did what she had to do. But something went terribly wrong, something that should not have happened: she has changed. In the absence of Revan, the Exile is planning his return in a most unusual way...
1. An enigma

_Disclaimer:_ the characters used in this story are the property of the following companies: Bioware, Obsidian Entertainment and LucasArts. Enjoy

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Chapter one: An enigma:

Why did she have to always misunderstand the last test? Once more standing before the hooded figure that loomed so menacingly within the tomb, she was staring blankly at it, trying to see through, further from it. She was unsuccessful. The figure made a step forward, igniting its two lightsabers. She was lost in thoughts, as usual when coming to this part of the tomb. For she often came there, five times since Kreia's –Darth Traya's- death, to be precise.  
- Who are you? You're not Revan, she asserted half-wittingly. Revan never walked in that stiff fashion.

It did not answer, as usual. Yet, she tried to understand, to ponder that vision of hers. Anew, she began to gaze at it, to look intently into it. Something deep inside, something that could help her in solving the problem, was missing. That something, of grave and stately meaning, was surely to remain hidden until she would be ready. Oh did she wish that she knew when! Most things depended on that when. She knew that she had little to no time now: she quickly ignited her brand new lightsaber, not of Bao-Dur's making this time, but of hers. She never hesitated. _I must not stab through the face; the mask must remain intact. _Emitting no sound whatsoever, the figure launched itself upon her in a flurry of robe and cape; she had barely the time, for once, to step aside. But, as usual, she defeated it with a single strike in its back, right through its heart. _And, __**as usual**__, you are quick to die, Rev', but why? _She stood awhile looking down on the freshly-made corpse. She gently swayed from one side to another and then resumed her habitual moves in this minutely-orchestrated duel, which, after four other occurrences, was now perfect and has become a _habit_.

Slowly, she stooped down, delicately posing her fingers upon the once-dreaded Sith Lord's mask and... In one incredibly discarding, gesture, she took it off and threw it away. She had lately grown tired of the same discovery made over and over. But there it was: Kreia was lifelessly looking back at her. _For all the Force there is in this Galaxy and, more particulary, within this tomb, why can't I get along with you, my old Master? Ah, yes! I remember now: I threw you down Malachor's pit! _She spoke outthe last words of the sentence and they were uttered loudly. She took great pleasure in doing so. The tomb gave back incomplete echoes, as though it wanted to reward her for that. "Malachor! Malachor... I threw you... pit... pit!" _Music to my ears. Still, I wonder why you're haunting me in here... There is a purpose to this vision and its meaning is kept away from me: why?_

This time something unusual happened, which greatly disturbed the Exile. Kreia's body disappeared all of a sudden and was _replaced _by that of a completely unknown woman, still breathing but with many a difficulty. Clad in a beautiful, green Jedi robe, she was, herself, very beautiful; aged perhaps thirty, she looked twenty-five and had that stern, yet appeasing, composure that Jedi Consulars have. She stood up while holding her broken right arm under the folds of her robe. Blood came from her ribs and dribbled on to the floor, shaping a dark mirror; a mirror in which only her gleaming green eyes reflected, whereas her dark brown hair hung loose on her shoulders. She seemed kind and delicate and her present situation was a pain to anyone's heart: her chest heaved with pain. Badly injured, she gave the impression of dying in a few minutes. She looked intently at the door from where the Exile came. She was expecting something; she had a role, a purpose, which was not meant for the Exile and she gave no sight of noticing her at all. After some time, the Exile, slightly bemused, asked:  
- Hi, why are you here? Are you waiting for someone?  
Silence fell anew in the sepulchre.  
- All right then, do you hear me, at least?  
Again, she showed no sign of sensing the Exile's presence.

The Exile tried to attract her attention, but nothing would do. She was immerged in her mission and would not remark anyone but the one outside, behind that door. Even physical pain (punches in her broken ribs, slaps on her cheeks, and so forth) did not make her wince. The Exile had been pondering on these strange events for some time when she heard a familiar voice screaming with horror, from what seemed to be the tomb's entry.  
- Aaargh! Please, don't! Don't!  
- Atton! Where in the Force's name are you, the Exile asked a bewildered whisper.  
But Atton was so far away, behind so many doors. Yet, she could hear him very clearly begging; for mercy? For forgiveness? That was a complete mystery and she had to rescue her most promising apprentice before it was too late.

- I beg you, please! Don't make me choose! I don't wanna choose; I don't want to join you... No!  
- You surely are in great danger, Atton... I told you not to enter this place...  
He could not hear her but there it was: she had to save him before the visions drove him to madness. And off she ran!

With a flick of her hand she opened the tomb's door and discovered herself to be another vision to Atton Rand, where she, the first visit she made there, encountered a fallen Kreia whom she "stupidly" chose to help. She directly headed for the other vision, the one in which she re-enacted a piece of the Mandalorian Wars. Running through it, she quickly checked the place: everything was dead and the bodies all bore horrendous marks of mutilations... Still wondering what in her apprentice's scene was that for, she went through the formerly-shyrack-infested room and arrived just behind the closed door leading to the first vision. The door was shut tightly as if the tomb wanted him to remain sole. However, it was not enough compared to her tremendous powers and she made it explode in chunks of rocks, all rumbling down as though it had been crushed by its own weight.

There he was, begging, on his knees, breathing shortly: Atton Rand was utterly panicked. He kept screaming nonsense at the figure before him. She directed her eyes at it: Revan! He was looking down on Atton Rand, relishing his visible sufferance. She walked towards him, crouched beside, put her arms around him and made him stand up. Ignoring the vision, she began to talk to him, calmly:- So, you wanted to know what's inside, what I've been keeping away from you. You thought that could be good fun, heh? What it encloses is only pain and doubt and now you are experiencing its power on you. You feel dizzy, despaired? Fine! That's what it's made for!  
Her anger was slowly building up...  
- I... I wanted to accompany you, my Master, as I promised, he answered panting.  
- Of course! I remember now: "to Hell and back?", she mimicked as a retort. Well you should not think I'm going to help you. You made these visions appear and all you can is to go right through the tomb 'til the end. Because, when you enter it, the way behind you closes automatically...  
- Y... Yes, my Master... And I will defeat 'em, he asserted.

His spirit of combativeness had come back to him; he now fully mastered his breathing and rose swiftly. He did not know that his master had lied to him and that she could destroy the door. She was testing him. _Life must strive in order to survive_, she thought. It was one of the many useful lessons that Kreia taught her and to which she did not immediately take heed. Besides, his punishment for disobeying an order was instantaneous as the place was mentally torturing him, while strengthening him.  
- Now, I'll be at your side, but I won't be able to help you: those are your visions. I can advise you a bit, but most of the work is for you and only you.  
- I understand, Master. Let's begin!  
Suddenly, through the broken bond, she heard Kreia's voice say in a cold sneer: "At last, the fool is tested." _We will see, Kreia, we will see._ And she focussed her attention on the first vision...


	2. The fool is tested

Chapter two: The fool is tested:

Revan stood there, giving the feeling that he wanted something from Atton. _Perhaps, the man has been absent for years, but he sure continues to disturb us all. _Contemplating Revan, she noticed Atton was passing the vision without even glancing it. A little puzzled, she asked her apprentice:  
- Aren't you supposed to answer his question? You know: the question you yelled at...  
- No need to answer: I accepted...  
- And what did you accept, I pray say, she asked a bit affectedly.  
- He wanted to recruit me, he answered flatly.

Passing Revan, she at least expected it to speak out its contentment about having acquired such a powerful assassin. But the vision merely nodded, forming, under the ghastly mask, a grin... _Well, I suppose so. He wasn't a man to disagree with. _They crossed quickly diverse rooms until they reached the second vision, filled with corpses. While crossing the bridge, she spoke out:  
- So, my apprentice, what in your venturesome life is that scene standing for, she sardonically enquired.  
- Kinda the middle, my Master, he briefly murmured. I thought it would be worse than that.  
- But what is it? Who were they, she asked, irritated. Do they have any link to you? Old kills?  
- Yep! Over there, there's the daughter agonising. Old Jurik's daughter had to die as well. A pity, 'cause she was sorta innocent.  
He told the whole story in a completely remote voice, as though he was not implied in this memory of his. They walked, side by side, to the girl's body; blood came out of her mouth like an animated froth, alive and gurgling out of her mouth.  
- Particularly nasty, that poison dart.  
- I understand, my apprentice... At least, the job's done. But who was that Jurik?  
- Oh, just a political leader Revan wanted dead, he informed her, point-blank.

He knelt beside Jurik's daughter, lifted her head with his hands and violently wrenched it to the left. The neck emitted a weak "crack". Atton rose up and walked away to the next illusion. The Exile stood a while alone, thinking about him and the quick change that made him regain his wits. She gave one last appraising look at that corpse-filled room and swiftly went off to join her apprentice. Whilst leading him through the unsettling corridor, before he was even able to see the third illusion, she began to warn him:  
- You should be careful of your feeling, Atton. Something rather weird is going to happen.  
- Oh, I think I can relax a bit now... I've understood what this place does. After all, you often say that fear is not knowing. I do not fear: I _know_ what it's doing to me.  
All this confident speech had been given with so much ease that she nearly embraced the idea of letting him go into the next room alone and wait for the outcome. But she quickly changed her mind as they arrived at destination and noticed his jaw dropping slightly, as if he would speak out his amazement.  
- Prepared for anything, weren't you, she enquired as she looked at the vision of herself wildly gazing back at him.  
- What in the Force's name is this thi-... this vision resembl-... resembling you?

He was confused and could not help wondering. The vision gave him a grave, yet gentle, gaze, feebly smiling at him. At last, she spoke. She did not address Atton and the Exile, but she only focussed her attention on him:- Atton, you're safe! Thanks the Force, you're not hurt! I was so worried, the vision joyously said.  
- Bu-... But you're not her; I mean: she's here right beside me. You're just an illusion, yeah, he incredulously asserted.  
- No, Atton, no I'm not: I'm more. I'm redeemed. Come, join me. We'll find a way out for you; atonement is possible for you. Come!  
- You... You... She... I...  
During five minutes, he kept on babbling nonsense, not knowing what was taking place, what he should think and, more importantly, how he should react. It was a strange experience, to be in someone's vision, not to be part of it (or to be, in a way). The Exile felt indifferent and cast out. She soon got angry at his indecision; she had waited for some time and then, decided to attack:  
- So, apprentice, are you going to fail me now?  
- I'm not, Master, I just...

The rest of the answer was stifled as well as Atton's breath: as he jerked his head to answer, instead of seeing his master, he beheld that long-deceased witch of Kreia, fiercely looking down on him, already 'downsizing' him. Whilst the Exile was attempting to understand what was happening, he spoke to the vision of Kreia that replaced her in space:  
- Kreia? You're dead... She killed you, he shouted as he pointed towards the Exile's illusion.  
- Indeed? She did not tell you the truth, then. She let me live so that she could redeem herself. And now, you have to choose: it is either her or me. I may be a "witch" to you, but I detain power and knowledge that could appease you for ever.  
- Kreia smirked. She was no match compared to the Exile.  
- Even if I have to ask for forgiveness, I'll always choose you, Leyna.  
There the Exile was completely lost and could make neither heads nor tails out of this prattle. She, nevertheless, realised that she was part of a vision to him, 'disguised' as Kreia. _What utter irony! Now I have to convince him I'm the true Leena._  
- Atton, my apprentice, it's me, the true Leena!  
- Don't you try your stupid tricks on me, old witch, he vehemently retorted. I'm going to deal with you. You'll never be able to manipulate anyone, never!

He ignited his lightsaber and slowly walked towards her. _This is taking a freaky turn. If I kill the vision of me, the whole illusion might disappear as well. That's worth trying. _In a hurry, she ignited her own lightsaber and, in a flash of red, she threw it on the vision. It fell on the floor, immediately dead and vanishing in a blink of the eye. Yet, something was wrong as Atton kept on walking towards her, wielding his ignited blade. He never turned his head, for fear of losing sight of "Kreia". He never hesitated:  
- You killed her. You killed Leena!  
He stopped and yelled at her:  
- I'll kill you. And I'll make you suffer, you ugly ol-...  
- Atton, it's me: I am Leena!

She however knew that she needed more to stop the illusion. Anger building up, she resorted to physical pain. _This will make him come back to reality._  
- You forced me to that, the vision's twisted mouth spat.  
- To what, old schutta? You-... Argh!  
A bolt of lightning hit him in his stomach; he was thrown away on several metres. When he abruptly landed, electricity ran down his body through the floor. He was sizzling! A second discharge of raw Dark Side energy hit him as he tried to get up, on his head, this time. He fell backwards and fainted. He finally woke up.

Everything was changed: only his master was now looking at him. She barely refrained from frying him.  
- Now, apprentice, shall we try the last room, which contains, I believe, your strongest nightmare, she falsely asked, walking towards the door. Ah! By the way, do not fail me again, she added menacingly.  
- Yes, my Master, he replied, chastened.

They had been looking at the door for some time when it opened. Atton fell on his knees anew. How could he have expected that? The last Jedi whom he killed. She stood there, before Kressh's sarcophagus, still showing this sense of purposefulness.  
- At last, you have come, assassin Atton. You did not kill me; you will not kill me before I reveal the truth about you, she stated resolutely.  
- It can't be y-... you! I killed you, he stammered.  
He apprehensively looked at his master for a sign.  
- Now you can finish her off, can't you, she suggested.  
She was so bored by this scene and, also, a bit annoyed; for she converted Atton to the Sith by toying with his thoughts about that very Jedi, stating that she lied. To her great surprise, the vision did not ignore her any longer.  
- No, he will not: there is still good in him. And I have come to show it to him, to reveal his affinity with the Force.  
- Well, if you stopped ignoring me, I'll directly answer you: he knows about the Force, about Revan and _I_ saved him, not you. You wanted to make a canon fodder of him. I freed him, broke his restraints. He is now the mightiest assassin, and one of the most promising Sith apprentices ever.  
Upon hearing the news, the vision was somewhat saddened and bore a depressed face. She now took full notice of both the Sith and looked at them, not as enemies, though... Altogether, her wounds were too severe for her to survive more than ten minutes, even as a vision.  
- Then he has been further corrupted, poor Atton! Come with me, child of the Force, come.  
Atton stood there swaying, merely blinking, not thinking at all. He had two basic choices and could not see what the Jedi could add to change his mind. After some reflection, he spoke:  
- This ends now, Jedi; you've lived way too long, Atton calmly said.  
- Forgive me, Atton, for what I am going to do on you...  
- What could you possib-... Hey, no you don't! My head! It's... Imploding! All those moments, all those people!

The Exile, puzzled, was witnessing a most bizarre scene. The injured Jedi had lifted her right arm, so slowly and painfully; she saw a small shard of bone protruding (the pain had to be so serious. How could she stay concentrated?). Her hand, which twitched uncontrollably, opened. At that precise moment, Atton seized his head and fell on the ground, sputtering and rolling all over the tomb. She thought that, at least, his mental defences had been lowered and that she could enter his mind. She did so. His mind was flashing with thousands of pictures, appearing and disappearing anarchically. Sometimes two or three images –memories or images from the Force? She could not say- came at the same time and were mixed all together to form one powerful bolt of lightning, tearing Atton's mind in one potent "crash". His mind had been assaulted by the Force in its rawest manifestation: she had forced him to 'meditate'. He was experiencing many people's stories, an old technique that has been forgotten so long ago. The Exile acted swiftly: she broke the bond linking him to the Jedi by 'bringing' sanity through their bond. _And when I think Jedi describe my bond-power as parasitic!_ The Jedi could not fight this "flush" of sanity and her many images sank in his mind. She tucked her right arm away in her robe's folds, wincing.

Brought back to normality, Atton got up. He confusedly wiped his lips and looked at the vision, infuriated. She appeared to be exhausted, intermittently panting, yet attempted to raise once more her arm from the folds, trembling so much from the effort.  
- Oh, no! This time you don't! I mean it!  
- You closed your mind from me; how could you? It's almost impossible! The technique even works on those who hide from the Force, she stated, stunned  
- I guess: "The Force shall free me", he answered irately.

She did not know what to do; the vision suddenly altered her 'strategy'. She Force-pulled Atton's lightsaber into her left hand, the unscathed one, and walked forward. Melancholic, it said:- I have failed you: I should have saved you.  
- MY MASTER SAVED ME FROM YOU, Atton yelled.  
- Then your "Master" must die...  
- Wha, the Exile asked, incredulous.  
The vision now headed for her, placed the lightsaber above her head and was about to strike her when a laser bolt hit her right under the armpit, forcing her to release the blade. Astounded, she looked at Atton, distracted from the Exile.  
- Even you, child of the Force, she stated, even sadder.  
- Even him, the Exile answered.  
And she struck her down, cutting her in two. The vision disappeared as soon as it touched the ground. Atton was relieved when he noticed that the exit's door was ajar.  
- Now let's get out of this place.  
- Not yet, my apprentice, there is something in this tomb I want you to take. I never touched it before. Open the sarcophagus.  
- Whose sarcophagus anyway, he asked, reassured.  
- Ludo Kressh's, inside remains his rotting corpse. Well, what is left of it; he died in an exploding ship. Some Sith had so much devotion to him, back here on Korriban, that they built this sepulchre and placed his corpse inside. The first time I came here, I didn't dare open the sarcophagus. Now we're fully immersed in the Dark Side, let us empty it.

Once unlocked, the sarcophagus revealed its content: a scorched and broken skeleton, which had been mummified as well as the Sith could... It was black with patches of drier shards of bone, of a dark brownish hue... The Sith was clutching his two sole belongings: an armband and a double-bladed sword. A foul breeze blew from the inside on the two onlookers. In the breeze were words whispered to their ears: tales of power, betrayal and revenge. Both the objects emitted might, as well as temptation. The Exile seized Kressh's War Sword and took it from his hands, breaking his nearly-molten wrists. She lifted it and stated:  
- From this day onward, I shall use only this weapon and conserve it until my own end comes. As for you, my apprentice, I bestow this armband, filled with the Dark Side, to you. It always will hide you in the darkness.  
- I accept your gift, Master, Atton solemnly answered.

Without a word, they ended this improvised ceremony and went out the cavern, adjusting their acquisitions to their Sith robes. Upon their arrival at the improvised landing pad, they noticed a hooded figure blocking the way to the Ebon Hawk.  
- What is it that you want, the Exile asked the figure.  
- Revenge, it whispered.  
It took off its hood and revealed a visage, that of a woman with closed eyes, bearing signs of either grave sickness or corruption. She opened her eyes: they were intensely yellow, outlined by the red of blood and a much darker yellow, both combined. She looked up at them and sneered:  
- So there they are: the Master and the apprentice. You were difficult to locate. I'll avenge Kreia's death with the death of your malignant order, which pretends to be Sith.  
The Exile acted as though she was not offended by her words and talked exclusively to Atton:  
- You see the preposterous schisms the Order had to endure so far? She is a fine example of selfishness and destruction. But even Sith as her are needed, as they are rather useful in battle. They are so good at dying quickly.  
- I see. Yet, I'd prefer to break her neck...  
- You fools cannot vanquish the true power of the Dark Side, she angrily retorted.  
- Oh, indeed? Then, show us your so-called "powers", the Exiled taunted.  
- I'll show you...

She barely made a movement forward when a loud "thud" hit her in the back. Falling on her face, the Sith noticed her back burnt on a large area by a blaster bolt. From the Ebon Hawk's access ramp came a mechanical voice, enquiring:  
- Question: Did you miss me, Master?

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Author's note: I had to reorganise all the pieces in the story. It took me an awful lot of time to write the second chapter. I hope it won't like that for the others...


End file.
